


The Flame Burns Cold

by clgfanfic



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan is mourning the loss of Darius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flame Burns Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Off With His Head #1 under the pen name Caryn Mayo.

Duncan walked the dark, damp Paris street, not at all sure where he was going, or why.  When he found himself standing outside the church he once found so welcoming, he knew.  Darius.

 _How can he be dead?_ he demanded of the Christ sculpture as he stepped into the near darkness.  _How could you allow a man like that to be wasted?_

There was no reply except silence.

Walking to the front of the old church Duncan sank into a chair.  Resting his elbows on his knees, he held his face in his hands, trying to force back the images of dead that crowded his mind.

_It wasn't right!  They were just men.  Human men…  And they killed one of the oldest surviving Immortals.  A man of God.  A priest!_

A cool breeze brushed the back of MacLeod's neck.  He looked up, his eyes begging for understanding from the compassionate face of the Mary statue nearby.

"Duncan?"

MacLeod bolted out of his chair, spinning toward the sound of the too-familiar voice.  "D-Darius?"

The priest smiled, a patient and caring expression.  "Who did you think?"

"But…"  Duncan took a single step forward, squinting at the faint outline of his friend.  The chairs were clearly visible behind him.  "You're…"

"Dead, yes."

Duncan scrubbed a hand over his face, not noticing the tears he wiped free of his cheeks.  "But…"

Darius chuckled.  "Duncan, we might live a long time, but there are more mysteries than there are thoughts in the minds of immortals."

MacLeod grinned.  "Sounds like you."

"It is me… in a manner of speaking."

"Are you…?"

Darius's eyebrows climbed, inviting the question that sat on MacLeod's tongue.

"A ghost?"

"No," Darius said, walking to the alter.  He reached out, one translucent finger touching the lip of the gold challis that sat there.  "I have… one final task before I…"

"Go to heaven?"

Darius gave a slight shrug.  "Move on, let's say."

"What is it?  I know who killed you, I–"

"I know.  It's of no real concern–"

"How can you say that?"  Duncan stepped up next to his old friend.  "They've been watching us for centuries, and now they're hunting us down."

"Yes," Darius said as he nodded.  "It is as it has always been.  Balance, Duncan.  The world is balance."

"That's not balance, Darius.  That's murder."

"And what we do to each other, that's not?"

"That's different.  It's the Gathering."

"Duncan, I don't have time to debt philosophy with you."  He nodded to the chairs, and MacLeod followed, sitting after Darius did.

"Then why are you here?"

"I have to warn you."

Duncan shook his head nervously.  "No… this is starting to sound like _Hamlet_."

"This is no stage drama, MacLeod."

Duncan met the specter's hard gaze.  "All right," he said seriously.  "What is it?"

"There are many rhythms of life, Duncan – theirs, ours.  But there's another, one that is coming, soon."

"I don't understand," MacLeod said.

"Throughout time, there have been moments, pivotal moments when the balance has shifted toward good, and toward evil."

Duncan looked skeptical.

"You don't have to believe me, Highlander, just listen.  The time is coming, shortly, when the balance will shift again.  A great evil is coming to this earth, and many of us, and many of the mortals will not survive it.  The revival of the Watchers is just one symptom of this illness.  It will have a physical manifestation."

"What am I supposed to do?  Fight it?"

Darius nodded.  "Yes, you will fight, you and everyone else.  It will be a fight for survival."

MacLeod watched his friend's face fold under the burden of sadness.  "What?"

Darius refused to meet the Highlander's gaze.  "There will be many loses, Duncan, but you cannot give in to the evil, or disappear.  Seek out your friends.  You have a special destiny ahead, you and a few others."

"Who?"

Darius shook his head.  "I cannot tell you."

"Why?"

"Balance, Duncan, balance."

"Who are these friends?  I'm running a little short," he said, the bitterness undisguised.

Darius smiled empathically.  "I know, my friend, I know.  And I am sorry you have to walk this road alone."

Duncan shook his head.  "No, that was unfair."  He reached out, surprised when his hand closed on a firm shoulder.  "I'm just…"

"Feeling alone, I know."

MacLeod nodded.

"My friend, when the time comes, you'll have to give up Duncan MacLeod.  When that happens, find Ironhorse.  He'll have answers for you."

"What?"

"Take another name, disappear for a while.  It will shake the Watchers off, and give you time to do what you have to.  Ironhorse will help."

"Does this have something to do with the aliens?"

Darius smiled.  "I've said more than I should already."  He reached out, taking Duncan's hand in his.  "Listen to your heart, Duncan.  Listen and follow the advice it gives you.  Do what you know is right, and be careful, my friend."

MacLeod pulled the man into a hug.  "I will.  Will I see you again?"

Darius stepped back, his eyes sparkling.  He smiled.  "You never know."

Before his eyes, Darius faded away.  "Darius!"

The church echoed with the name, but the priest was gone.

MacLeod looked down at the gold challis.  A drop of wine clung to the lip of the cup.

_What's happening?  What the hell is happening?_

He reached out, catching the drop of wine on his finger tip.  Slowly he raised it to his mouth, touching it to his lips.  "Goodbye, my friend.  For now…"

The End


End file.
